What He Left Behind
by Violaine

I know you guys are still waiting on the sixth and final part of "Dragon Woes", as well as the sequel to "Don't You, Milliard?". I'm sorry, but my muses for these fics just hate me it seems. Anyway, this just begged to be let out of my head today, it's probably trash, but I rather fancy it. The inspiration for it was the Zechs Wild Turkey pic. If you're mad at me for posting this before finishing the others... uh, nevermind, I'm going to shut up now, I'm in a bad mood. Enjoy!

Italic type indicates flashbacks.

"Goddamn you." The words were slurred and practically silent, slipping out of his lips not unlike the thin line of liquor tracing a path down his bare, golden chest. Wild Turkey. Treize had hated the stuff, which was why Zechs bought it in the first place. Treize. Apollo himself in body, Eros incarnate in mentality. His voice echoed in Zechs' ears continually now, like caramel melting in black coffee. It sang him to sleep, it whispered good morning to him when the sun rose over the horizon, and it groaned like a lazy cat when the blonde could do nothing more than lie naked in bed and pleasure himself in his memory.

Utter and complete silence shattered suddenly as the half-clothed man sitting on the floor looked up and sniffed loudly. The setting sun illuminated the sparkling wet trails on his cheeks as he ran his fingers through the thick blonde locks Treize used to tease him over.

"Such impracticality for an OZ soldier, don't you think, Milliard?" Treize asked teasingly, gripping the silken hair tightly as he shoved forward, impaling his lover almost fiercely from behind. Zechs gasped and moaned all at once, shuddering beneath Treize as his own rosy cock milked out a drop of liquid sugar in response.

Icy blue eyes clenched shut at the all too vivid memory invading his mind. Shaky hands found their way to his face, and he rested his head in them as his toes curled and his entire body tensed. The hands turned to fists slowly and Zechs bit back a sob before whispering another almost silent plea.

"No. Treize.... please, no."

The sob finally burst forth, racking through the deserted room and bouncing off the hardwood floors. One bicep flexed, effectively bringing his arm across the empty air toward the bottle of Wild Turkey. Skin hit glass and the bottle flew across the room, only to crash and shatter against a nearby wall, leaving the floor speckled with amber drops of intoxication. Zechs leaned forward and rested his weight on his elbows and knees, hanging his head down to lightly press on the wood beneath him. Sobs slowly morphed into groans, pained ones at that, then gave way into virtual screams. An angry fist pounded on the slats on the floor repeatedly, each punctuated with a small whimper from the assailant.

"FUCK YOU!!!" Another blow to the floor sliced a reasonably sized gash into Zechs' hand, and an obscene gout of crimson poured onto the surface below. Another sob tore through the shaking form as a seemingly endless wave of blonde silk poured off his shoulders and onto the wood of the floor. "FUCK YOU, DO YOU HEAR ME TREIZE? FUCK YOU!!!" He screamed again, just a monosyllabic expression of his grief, and collapsed onto the floor, giving it one last punch with his fist, now slick with blood. He gave himself up into a tirade of tears and sobs as he rolled onto his back and looked up at the ceiling with blurred vision.

"You were fucking immortal, Treize.... why are you doing this to me?" The words were pained, dripping with pain and anguish, yet almost a whisper that not even Zechs himself heard. Thin strands of spun platinum stuck to his tear-stained face, and he reached up with his wounded hand to brush them away. One drop of blood landed on his bottom lip, causing him to assess the damage he'd done. It was bad.... It would need stitches....

Treize frowned at the hand he held in his own as he swabbed down the cut with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol. Zechs winced and pulled away, glaring up at his lover.

"That fucking hurts!"

Treize only chuckled and looked up from his work, cornflowers meeting ice. "You're such a baby, Milliard." He smiled and wrapped a bandage loosely around Zechs' hand before meeting his gaze again. "You'll need stitches. And you need to learn how to control your temper."

Before the blonde could even protest, His Excellency's lips were locked onto his, silencing the words with pure love.

"You didn't have to die, Treize....." The tears had ceased their noise, though they still slid steadily down Zechs' face. His arms were folded over his stomach, hugging himself, blood flowing over his skin just as freely as the tears flowed over his cheeks. Zechs rolled onto his side in a fetal position and let his eyes fall on the fireplace across the room. The area around it looked nothing like it used to, but the vision was still there. The man managed to push out the memory before it began.

"You made love to me for the last time in this room. You.... you... we were going to be together... after the war." His eyes welled up with a fresh fountain of salt water that spilled over quickly, bringing more sobs with it and another streak of anger. "I LOVED you, goddamnit! I LOVED YOU!!!!" The anger ceased as quickly as it had begun, giving way into pleading, then morphing back. "Please... gods, please Treize... don't be gone. Please, please, please, please... Treize, PLEASE! GODDAMN YOU, DON'T LEAVE ME!!!!"

Zechs brought himself to his feet and screamed again, swaying quite obviously as a result of the bottle of Wild Turkey he'd consumed. His chest and torso stained with blood, he staggered his way over to the large, open window, the one that looked out over the mountains. It was summer, Treize's favorite time of year, and the sky was red from the sun sinking down behind the horizon. The light played over Zechs in rays and streams, changing every so often and coloring his platinum mane into a dark crimson, matching almost exactly the life spilling from his hand. The tears just weren't stopping.

"Treize," Zechs whispered out into the evening, "you infected me the day I met you. You spread through me like a disease... a poisonous, sinful disease... one I'd no desire to be rid from. You made me alive. You lit me on fire. You held my hand and took me places I never knew existed. But now you're gone.... I can't... no, you can't be.... " The form crumbled to his knees and started to cry, resting his arm on the pane of the window, and leaning his head there as well. "Please. Can't anything bring you back?" Zechs slid back down to the floor again and onto his side. "Please."

From the doorway, a smaller form watched, leaning against the jamb. He wore a frown. He wore a blue tank top. He wore white pants. He wore a pigtail. He was crying as he walked into the room and scooped Zechs into his arms.

Zechs opened his eyes slowly, taking in Chang Wufei. The immaculate face harboring the icy blue eyes instantly crumbled as he threw his arms around the smaller boy, crushing him against his chest. A bloody hand reached up and pulled the elastic out of the raven black hair, letting it fall loosely about them. Sobs mingled together and danced around each other, chest heaving against chest in anguish. The two held on fiercely, protectively, defensively.

"He.... he's gone... he..." The blonde's voice trailed off.

Wufei pulled away slightly, only to look into his eyes. "I know, Milliard." His own black eyes were red and pooled with tears, and the normally bronzed face was pale and sad.

"He...... he...." Zechs just grabbed Wufei again and clung for dear life, crying hard enough to make the world end. They competed against each other in sobs and pain, and finally fell to sleeping in each other arms, tangled and clutching, inseparable.

He was never coming back. They were all that he left behind.